Just Bracket It
by BlumeShullman
Summary: "Listen, I can be your hero, Russia. You don't wanna know how it feels?" They thought it was just one night. Something harmless. They thought it was just a parenthesis. America/AlfredxRussia/Ivan YAOI
1. Just one night

**Title:** Just Bracket It

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything**  
**

**Warning:** This is Yaoi, if you don't like it, what are you doing here? o.o

Hello Everyone!

I'm Blumeshullman, nice to meet you, this is the first chapter of a fic about the best couple of Hetalia: AmericaxRussia!

I really want to thank my beatareader _Soggypotatoes_ and also _Magicalgentleman_ who helped me to correct the first chapter.

And I will dispel your doubts about some **double R**: They're here because of Russia's accent!^^

Have a good read! (I will send the second chapter soon, I promise)

* * *

-Mmmmh!

Alfred was trembling in Russia's arms.

- Oooowah...

- Why specifically this place? Ivan asked, referring to his neck which had turned practically red because of Alfred's kisses and bites.

- Hmmmm you don't know why? Well it's because... I wanna invade your intimate space." "... in good faith" Alfred added, tantalising.

Ivan thought that the shortest way to make Alfred shut up was to give him other things to do than chatting. That's why he grabbed the American's dick firmly and began to give him a very tight and virile hand job, without making the effort to remove his black leather gloves. Instantly America let out a cry and turned his head, exposing his white neck...

- Ouch! Why did you bite me that hard?

- I think the one who wants to invade otherrs should not complain when he gets hurrt.

- Fair enough.

Russia's grip around his dick was almost painful. It was good, though.

-Hummm, so tight... must be the same in you.

Ivan opened his eyes wide, temporary too astonished to react, letting Alfred's sex escape from his grip. This stupid American didn't really think he would dominate him? Horror-stricken, he realised that Alfred had disappeared.

- Let's check it out right now!

- Waitaminute! You'rre not trrying to dominate me, da?

- Ho no, I'm not _trying_. America giggled, sliding his hand between their bodies down to Russia's boxers. "Impressive!" he said as he found the enormous erection, opening his eyes wide. "But tonight I'm the seme" he added, kissing Russia's shoulder.

- What's that? Hot Warr?

- Hell no, you missed the point. I just want you. This is anything but a war. Please?

- Not like that. You should go back by yourrself beforre you get hurrt.

- C'mon, I know perfectly well that I can't force you, but I wanna give you something.

- Like yourr dick in my ass? No thanks.

- Don't use vulgar words.

- I'll be polite when you get off.

- Listen, I can be your hero, I won't tell anyone about this.

- As if it was enough.

- You want more guarantees?

- Yes. ...I mean no! Just get off!

- I promise. It will just be between you and me and no one will know. I promise I won't hurt you, that's something I truly want to share with you, cause you never did this, did you? It's better if it's me, isn't it? I'll take care, really. Don't you wanna know how it feels? Don't you wanna know why people always crave for this? I wanna make you discover things nice. In no way it is a plan to humiliate you, you'll always be stronger than me and I know that.

- I wonderr why you even think you can prropose this to me. No one else would.

- Because they think of themselves first and you must be great in bed I guess.

- Flatterry does not worrk on me.

- Oh well, I was being honest though. So if it doesn't work... Does cuddling?

- ...

- I shouldn't tell you this now but it does not mean nothing to me, you're kind of... special.

-...

- Really.

- I feel like I've fallen in a verry stupid trrap

- Oh Ivan!

Alfred wrote in a mental post-it: "cuddles and cheesy romantic words" and lifted the Russian's legs upon his shoulders and slowly. He stroked his ass lightly and licked his fingers to use his saliva as lube. Closing his eyes he put the first phalanx of his forefinger in the very tight inner space of Russia who let a sound escape from his lips, something between a whisper and a sob. He couldn't help but feeling humbled so Alfred started to kiss him nicely and reward him with gentle and stupid phrases while he put his finger deeper in him. A feeling like a wave started to invade America, he didn't know why but suddenly he knew that he needed this too. As he stoked Ivan's cheek, he said:

- Oh yes you're special to me, no one else...

Ivan opened his eyes that he had shut before not to see what he was letting his former enemy do, and met America's. It was weird. Oh it was very weird... If he had been naive he would have said... Fuck but hey! What does that look mean?

- No one else you said? Russia said with a smirk.

- Ouch, so cold! But it's ok, I'll find a way to warm you. America answered, as he put a second finger in Ivan's intimacy, making him moan and hide his blushing face.

If true feelings began to interfere, what a gigantic mess it could be... no no no NO.

Ivan took a decision so that he could enjoy what was happening: he just added big black parentheses all around this night in his mind and began to relax a little bit. His left hand still hiding his face, he put the other on America's head, guiding him downward. The order was quite clear, and also the fact that it was an order.

America docilely opened his mouth and started to lick and suck the part of russia's cock that he was able to put in his mouth, helping himself with his free hand while his fingers were still moving slowly, gently stroking the sensitive warm skin, careful not to scratch him with his nails, even if they were short enough. When he heard Ivan moan once again, in a very pleasant way, he was not sure if it was because of his mouth's or his finger's job but at least he took his promise not to hurt him and started to move faster but carefully, covering the Russian's virility with kisses, hoping Ivan was not in the mood to kill him he asked:

- can I introduce a third...

- Nyet. Wait.

- Okay...

Russia was lying on the bed, his legs shyly open. He was not sure to be well. Maybe his mental parentheses was not strong enough to make him forget his male chauvinist legacy. But desire was there, it was burning down in his stomach and in his brain. And even though the invasion that he underwent was really very odd, it didn't feel that bad. In fact... it felt rather good. "Keep going slowly." he said as he began to move a little more against America's fingers.

America felt the second wave of mixed feelings pushing and pressing his heart. He had already said too much so he bit his lower lip and closed his eyes. The opportunity was clearly unique. He had to make great efforts and force himself to calm down. If he made a mess of it , there would be no second chance.

-Amerrica?

-Ivan?

-That's... odd.

-I know. I would like to tell you you have nothing to worry about but I don't even know if you are scared or not.

-Obviously I am. A bit.

-Do you want me Ivan?

-...

-Cause I want you, I wanna make love to you and take care of you even if I know that you don't need me to protect you.

-Please, I'm not a fucking prrincess

-That's exactly what I meant. But you don't need to control everything.

-That's harderr forr me than it would be forr you, I guess.

- And what if I give you something after?

- Like what?

- Anything.

- Hmmm you prromise?

- Yeah, if it's not a political or economical issue, I promise. I'll give you what you want so think about it.

- Hmmmmmmm...You know what? In fact, to be verry honest, I know what I want and rright now it's you, no matter how.

America giggled and kissed him. It was a warm and enthusiastic kiss and Russia began to feel better, cause it was clear for him now that America didn't lie to him: it was anything but a war.

When America broke the kiss, he made a tender smile and stroked Ivan's cheek gently, mentally thanking god for making him succeed to calm down. He was a little bit surprised by the tense he felt in his heart. When he suddenly decided that he needed Russia in his bed under his body, hours ago, he wasn't scared. But now he was realising that it was just impossible that such a thing could be harmless. And the alcohol which helped him at first was not guiding him anymore. He was scared, alone and sober to deal with his desire. He never wanted someone that much and had never been terrified by sex before. In fact, he was the one who was moaning when he slowly introduced a third finger in Russia, who just bit his lower lip and sighed.

Russia also was feeling weird. The way America was looking at him was too serious for his poor parentheses. Why wasn't he already fucking him? Why was everything so slow, as if he was touching a virgin? Well that point was kind of true but...

Alfred started to accentuate the pressure of his fingers, opening and closing them in scissoring movement, using his force to fight the walls which were always closing against his fingers. Ivan forgot what he was thinking about a second before to just focus on that question: how was it possible to undergo this without even feeling pain? It just was...

Hummm...

It was... the most delicious torture ever.

- Hn! Dаaaaa...

America smiled but immediately took his fingers out. He didn't want to cum before penetrating him just because of the irresistible sound of his voice.

- Bastarrd! I was just beginning to feel good!

- I know and I'm sorry but if you start talking in Russian I'm done. You don't realize how hard it is to refrain myself from cumming when you are so sexy.

- As I said beforre, flatterry does not worrk on me.

- It was not a flattery, it was a reproach.

- ...?

- Ivan... please... please let me do this.

- Didn't I alrready say "yes"?

- Not exactly.

- Don't expect me to beg you.

- I don't. What I want is just a kiss. But I want it badly. Will you give it to me?

Ivan smiled. This was much better than what he expected from America. The true word was "romantic". He didn't expect America to be that romantic. But it was a good surprise. He used to have rough sex... people who came to him before was always the kind of guys who heard a sort of legend about his performances and wanted to be taken hard by a heartless Russian Mafioso. And he didn't want to disappoint them, right? Opening his arms he let America lie on him and stroke his back with the fingertips up to his neck and cupped his head. With his tongue he played on America's lips until he opened his mouth and there, totally invaded America.

America took advantage of the fact that Ivan was dominating him with his mouth to penetrate him slowly. Fair's fair.

-Haaa!

America intensified the pressure and stopped when all the length of his virility disappeared in Russia. His dick was practically crushed by the delicious strength of all the muscles which were fighting against him. He held his head high to look Ivan in the eyes.

- Woah...

This "woah" was the only thing Alfred was able to say. Ivan's face had turned red and he was looking at him with an anxious-but-not-shy expression, his wet violet eyes staring at him.

- I know, I'm not that bad, but if you rreally wanna be my herro, it's now orr neverr.

America smiled and kissed him one more time before starting to move. It was true that he had nearly frozen in admiration. But he had a good excuse: he was happy. And he felt happier now cause it finally happened: Ivan asked for it eventually. Well it was more like an ultimatum, but it was Russia, after all. He began to make slow movements in Russia, searching for the better way to make him enjoy it. He was not even aware of being trying his best to please Russia instead of thinking of himself. And the heat was increasing. Suddenly Russia removed his gloves and sighed as he let his arms down, his left hand clutching the bed sheet while the right one was stroking the back of Alfred's thigh. Alfred's movements in him became more and more intense. It was too tender, too strange, too warm. Russia was now breathing shorter and faster, trying not to moan and scream. But suddenly, in a flash as his eyes met America's, he understood that his honour was completely preventing him from being happy although both his body and his heart were screaming in his brain that it was just perfect.

- Oh Ivan, I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?

Russia looked at him in surprise. Afred had stopped all his movements and was stroking his cheek, a concern look in the is just at that point that he noticed that he was crying and trembling. Silent tears had fallen from his eyes, he didn't know why. As he wanted to reassure America on how he felt, his voice broke up and he sobbed:

- I'm ... f... fine... Oh I'm sorry! I... feel... so humiliated! And the worrse is... I... like it but... I like it and... it's even worrse... exactly for that rreason. That's a... a fucking prrison! I... am so... ashamed. Oh!... how could you still want me afterr that?

- I just feel stupid. I didn't take your warnings seriously. You said it to me twice. I'm the only one who should be ashamed.

- No, don't say that, it's... all my fault. I suck... I must be dismaying you...

- Ivan you need to calm down. Why would you care about what i think? You must consider how you feel and what you want. If you want me to stop and if you want me to leave you alone i will do it. But if you want me to continue... I still want you, you know?

- Rreally?

- I'll tell you something Ivan. I didn't come to you by chance. You are special to me.

- You alrready said it... it must be trrue, afterr all. Hmmm do you rreally still feel desirre forr me?

- Considering that point, my body is rather eloquent, isn't it?

- Indeed. And I want you too. That is the rreason why I crried in fact. Sometimes I'm stupid. Well not as often as YOU arre.

- I'm not stupid at all!

- Shut up and go on, Al.

America blushed because of the unexpected use of his nickname and started moving again. He immediately saw that it was different. Ivan sighed and opened his legs a bit more, a shy smile lighting up his face. Alfred would have bet that he heard Ivan whisper: "thank you." This little smile on Ivan's face made Alfred want to kiss him but he was not sure that Ivan would agree with him treating him so romantically for now. Ivan had put his solid and powerful arms around him and Alfred let a groan escape from his lips and said something like "holdmehugmesqueezeme".

Ivan seemed to understand what Alfred wanted cause he squeezed him with his arms and legs. At the very moment he did that, he accidentally changed the angle and put Alfred's dick just against this particular point, this secret place where all his mixed feelings was meant to turn into sheer pleasure. And he screamed. He really screamed "Morre!" without realizing how desperate he sounded. At this point he couldn't care less. And the romantic Alfred disappeared to let an America full of strength and passion invade Russia like he has never been invaded before.

They just couldn't stop. America's dick was thrusting and thrusting again. It was what both of them needed. America was not sure to control everything and Russia wasn't controlling anything, especially not his voice. He was screaming under America's body like he never screamed above anyone. They were not aware of who they were anymore. There was just their hearts melted with the fluids of their passion, their sticky wet bodies fitting perfectly together. Ivan ended up totally begging for it but America didn't want to laugh at him cause he was too happy, too sincerely happy to even consider doing it.

Because it was the opposite of a war.

Because now he knew how serious all this was for him.

How badly he wanted to take him over, to possess him.

They didn't know since when they were making this but it was as if their bodies had an important talk. And no intention to curtail it. Little by little their minds got lost in the burning hell of pleasure and their breaths became totally erratic. Ivan came, immediately followed by Alfred who fell on him, panting and trembling.

The time was standing still. One could have only heard the sound of their breaths. In some way, Alfred thought that the moment was just perfect to rebirth or die. It was useless to ask if he liked it, Russia already expressed it before. That was not like if there was still a doubt about it. And the way he was stroking his back was so romantic that America was purring like a cat, an overjoyed smile on his face. But after a little moment he remembered that he was a little bit heavy and that Russia had trouble breathing so he took himself out of Russia with bad grace and lay next to him.

It was 2 o' clock. From the open window, the sounds of Washington by night were entering in the room. It was a warm spring night, a pleasant atmosphere.

- It's a beautiful night.

As he said this, Russia put his right hand on Alfred's waist, who blushed like a teenager and answered:

- Indeed.

* * *

**To all of you:**

**Thank you for the reviews and for being here, you give me a good reason to continue even if it is hard cause you all are cool and it makes me want to know you!  
**

**kisses.**


	2. Just the end of a beautiful night

**Hi everyone!**

It's me, BlumeShullman, still yaoist, still French, still trying my best to please you, but still a bit stupid.

Here is the second chapter, I hope that you will like it. It was easier than the first chapter because they're talking a lot but I think the third chapter will be a disaster for my poor betareader _Soggypotatoes_ who will have to fix it, aargh!

In this chapter, America is "stupid and lovely". Haaa I love him!

* * *

It was 2 o' clock. America was stroking Russia's chest, checking with a glance that he was not annoying him. But Russia didn't care, watching the ceiling as he was thinking. Everything seems so useless and ridiculous after love-making. Politics... He sighed. It was a big mess. It was the kind of thing that you had to fix but you didn't want to fix, because you know that it will come to a bad end and create a new form of chaos. But not for now. For now he was just a guy, practically a human, looking at the ceiling of a bedroom in a luxurious hotel. A guy who just had an orgasm. Things were not that bad.

America knew that something had happened. At least in his heart, if not in Russia's. His body was tired but his mind was fresh and ready to fight, now that he knew exactly what he wanted. It was very simple and very complicated in the same time: He wanted Russia. Well, maybe not "Russia", rather than "Ivan". Ivan Braginski. Ivan Braginski...

- Da?

- Yes?

- No, "yes" is what I just said. You called my name. And my surname.

- Did I? Well, I must be tired if I'm thinking aloud.

- So you were thinking of me.

- Maybe I was.

- That was not a question. What was I doing to you in your mind?

- Eh? N-nothing!

- Are you sure?

- Absolutely! Hahemmm... Are you thirsty? America said, escaping from the bed.

- I was but you ruined my appetite. Am I that creepy?

- I just don't like to be bottom.

- Do you think I like it?

- You did like it, admit it.

- Don't be too insolent, Америка.

- Whatever. I'm thirsty. I'll go to get me a bottle of Coca Cola. Do you want something?

- I suppose you don't have vodka?

- Yes I have vodka. Which brand do you like more?

- Stolichnaya.

- Haha! I was sure you wouldn't say "Smirnoff" because I acquired the rights of this vodka. Ok, so, Stolichnaya, and Coca Cola.

Shortly after, America came back with a bottle of Stolichnaya and a glass, holding his bottle of Coca Cola with his teeth. Ivan thought that his little American was sexy and irritating in the same time, naked in front of him with his careless attitude, as if he had absolutely no complex.

- How come you have true Russian vodka in your hotel room?

- When I travel I like to have my comfort.

- I reword my question: Since when do you like vodka?

- Do you remember that night, years ago, when we had a conference in your house?

- Da.

- Everybody was sleeping. I woke up because of a nightmare. At that time I used to have nightmares every night. It was awful. Anyway, I went to the kitchen and when I put the light on, argh! Sitting quietly, you were drinking in the dark, just like that.

- H'hihi!

- Your laugh is creepy!

- Yours is loud and always out of context. Go on. It seems funny.

- That was not funny at all! I almost died from fear! Well, so to speak because I am a nation. The land of the brave!

- You're digressing.

- Well, so you were there, busy with being creepy... and you offered me a drink.

- As I remember, you were quick to accept.

- I needed to clear up my mind!

- Everybody knows that alcohol makes people wise.

- So as I was saying you offered me a drink. We didn't talk much but we drank a lot. It was the first time that I tasted vodka.

- You didn't seem to like it though.

- Not really... I rapidly became drunk and I fainted. I woke up in my bed as you were covering me with the blanket. I was panicked but you left me alone.

- You thought that I was going to rape you?

- I don't know exactly what I was thinking about but yes, it wasn't nice. In my mind, even after the cold war, you were still my sworn enemy. The day after, when I realized how kind you had been with me, I felt stupid and what I thought of you changed.

- ...

- Drinking vodka always reminds me of you. I still don't like it but sometimes... well, often... that is the only thing that I need.

- It sounds like a metaphor.

- ...

- Come here.

America put his bottle on the bedside table and crawled on the bed to end up in Russia's arms. His heart was pounding in his chest as if he was in danger of his life, but Russia was stroking his back and shoulders so for now he felt good. But all of sudden, without warning, Russia pinched him on the neck.

- Ouch! why did you do that?

- This is for having thought that I would be able to rape somebody. Maybe I could kill but rape someone? Never.

- What? Am I supposed to feel relieved? When you're talking about killing people?

- Don't jump on conclusions please, don't be too... I was going to say "too American" but this would be difficult for you.

- Hmmm.

- Are you sulking?

- Just thinking.

- In that case...

Russia cupped and lifted his head and gave America a sweet kiss which puzzled him deeply.

- This...

He kissed him a second time.

- ...Is for thinking of me...

He kissed him one more time.

- ... And needing an alcohol you don't even like...

He kissed him again and held him tight.

- ..Just to carry a part of me with you.

America left his eyes to look at him and put his arms around his neck without saying anything. It was true that those past years, he had gotten used to thinking of him more and more often. And it wasn't unpleasant. The more he thought of it the more he saw how logical it was.

- It... was not a metaphor when I said it.

- You're using past tense, does that make sense?

- Heammmm... Hey! It's too complicated for me! What are we talking about?

- H'hihi! America, you're so young! Stupid and lovely, how could I resist?

- I'm not stupid at all! Just lovely!

- Oh really?

- Absolutely!

- You'll have to prove it to me...

- And how! You'll be impressed.

- Yes... but please calm down. You are the one who said it wasn't a war. Remember. I don't need to be impressed.

- Sorry... You're right. I'm stupid.

- You're not, I was teasing you. And you're very sensitive to cutting remarks.

America smiled and hid his head in Russia's neck. Even now, and maybe even more now, talking with Russia was terribly stressful to him. He never knew what to expect. But his fear has changed. Now his greatest fear was to be left alone. He wanted this to continue, even if he was scared, because...

- I like it.

- What are you referring to?

- Your arms. Having them around me. Hugs. You... Especially you.

Ivan tangled his fingers into Alfred's hair. He was beginning to understand that the guy had fallen deeply in love with him. He just couldn't get why. It was so much more than what he expected... He used to know America. He was discovering Alfred, a boy who was incredibly tender, who really cared, who wasn't as obstinate as he thought. This part of him deserved to be known. Alfred was giving him so much that Ivan wanted to give him a little love in return. He wanted to see his turquoise eyes again, when they were half-closed and when his mind seemed to fly away to Moscow. He wanted to love him, even if it was not meant to last. He was stroking his hair. He loved the way his golden-like locks were reflecting the light of the chandelier. It was three o'clock.

- Are you tired?

- No. Sex and Coca Cola keep me awake. Even with sleeping pills I'm sure I couldn't sleep.

- Good. What do you think of taking care of me since you have some free time?

- I'll be happy to accept your offer.

The two hands of Russia took his hips and left America above him, who immediately blushed so much that Ivan laughed:

- You sure are cute when you're red with embarrassment. But I thought you were more _seme_ than that. Did you change your mind?

- Not at all. I can't help but be touched by such... I dunno. It makes me want to kiss you everywhere.

- Don't restrain yourself.

- Yay!

America pressed his hips against Russia's and sighed. It was good. He smiled. Ivan was smiling too. Alfred started to kiss Ivan. Everywhere. And what happened after was so gratifying that they fell asleep shortly after, naked and embraced, with a tender smile on their faces.

But of course, nights breed next mornings. And sometimes, those next mornings shouldn't exist.

* * *

**I still love reviews**

**Oh yes.**


	3. Just keep me busy

**Hi everyone! **

You all are very kind, really, that's adorable.

But please, tell me when I say things weird, oh and if you are American, could you please correct me when I use English words instead of American ones? In school we have to speak English but Alfred is ten times sexier, isn't he?

I mean, I have so many things to learn...

This chapter is longer than the second, and of course it's sader, but trust me, it's just the beginning of a loooooooong fic, da! And even without spoiler, I already can say that there will be many others important characters than America and Russia. You'll find out about one of them in this chapter. But they are the main couple, don't be afraid this is not a fruk or something...

I am writing a fruk actually... but that's definitely another story. You know, it's just because... we french fangirls are so frustrated cause no one loves Francis... we need fruk to survive. Too bad that our love for Iggy is not mutual...but I'm digressing!

We're talking about Alfred now. Alfred, as beautiful as a Greek God, but much louder. Alfred, the guy who is "stupid and lovely, da!"

This guy, if you remember, just fell asleep in the arms of the cutest uke ever, the well-known Ivan.

**Ready?**

* * *

It was nine o'clock. America opened his eyes and looked around him. The bed was empty. A part of him thought: "How cliché!" and the other thought: "Fuck, it hurts."

- WHERE ARE YOU?

- Hey, you don't need to be so loud.

Russia was standing still, near the bathroom, all dressed and ready to leave, his scarf back around his neck. As he lowered his eyes he said:

- So... I'm going. I want you to keep silent about last night.

- You are not cool at all, you know?

- Excuse-me?

- The role you're playing right now is not cool at all. If you think it's sexy to be cold, it isn't.

- I don't know if you think I'm sexy or not and I don't give a shit, America. I'm leaving. It's quite clear, isn't it?

- Clear like a fucking foggy night, yes. If you had seen your face last night, you wouldn't try to be clever.

- I hate that proud tone of voice of yours. It makes you look like the superficial spoiled teenager you really are.

- How dare you? Why did you choose to ruin everything?

- There was nothing to ruin.

- That's a lie. You know that it's a lie.

- Goodbye America, see you at the conference in five hours. And if you want advice, forget what happened.

- But that is not what I want! Ivan...

But it was too late. Ivan had decided to go, he wouldn't stay for all that Alfred could say. The door slam is always terrible. Even in a 5-star hotel. Nothing can soften the silence following the slam. Nothing except the alcohol in the minibar. America fell down on the bed. He didn't want to cry. Somehow he felt relieved that Ivan didn't let him finish his sentence. Everything had happened too fast. He was just about to say something desperate.

He didn't want to let the pain grow. He took the bottle of vodka on the bedside table and looked for analgesics in his pockets. It was disgusting. The taste of the vodka in the morning. It burns both your throat and your mind. And it hurts. There is nothing worse.

- Ho Ivan, you monster, why do I love you?

There was no answer. He didn't even know. In no way he was going to the conference. He needed to escape and didn't want Ivan to see him half-drunk and with red marks under his eyes. He copied his speech and pasted it in an email to Germany. He saw it before feeling it: a drop of water on the space key of his laptop. It had fallen directly from his eye. He clicked on the icon "send" as long as he was still able to see it and removed his glasses. He was still naked on the bed, surrounded by silence.

The second tear rolled on his cheek, warm and wet, like his memories of Russia's body. A part of him felt angry. No one had the right to treat him like that. Not even the creepiest Russian guy in the world. But the idea that maybe Russia didn't care was more depressing than revolting. The saddest thing was that it didn't make him stop dreaming of Ivan. On the contrary, he wanted to see him again and try his best to make him stay. Something was wrong about his hero complex. He didn't accept failure. Rubbing his eyes and breathing deeply to hold a sob back, he grabbed his phone. Only one person was always there for him.

- Kesesesesesesesesesesese... Answer me, please I really don't need you to leave me too! Keseseseseseseesesese...

- He? Al?

- Kesesese - hun? Mattie?

- Speaking. Are you ok?

- Hahem...

- And more precisely?

- I need to see a friendly face.

- Oh, please tell me you didn't do something dangerous again!

- Dangerous? Yeah I guess it was a bit dangerous.

- Where are you?

- In Washington...

- That's quite a big city, you know?

- You'll find me near the Einstein Memorial.

- Why not in the White House?

- Cause... I'll explain it to you later, hurry up. I need you, so be useful!

He hung up and looked around. He needed to escape from here too. This bed was totally not a healthy place to wait. It was full of living memories. He took the pillow where Ivan had laid his head and pressed it against his chest. It had the same smell than Russia. Special. A forest smell, like resin, alcohol of course and something sweeter but he didn't know what. Frustrated, he sniffed the tissue one more time, trying to focus on this particular fleeting smell but it had vanished. When he realised what he was doing he stopped and let the pillow fall back on the bed. He went to the bathroom and said to his reflexion in the mirror:

- What? Why are you doing such a gloomy face? It's nothing, what did he say? "There was nothing to ruin."

He stood there for a moment, quiet and trembling, as if he was waiting for an answer and then, with a firmer tone of voice, he recapped:

- First, you take a shower and erase the evidences. You need to remove his sperm from your belly. It's disgusting, period. Then you get dressed and leave. Leave.

Three hours later , not far from the Einstein Memorial, Matthew said:

- So, you don't wanna tell me why you're like this? How can I be useful if you don't say anything?

- I already told you. I promised to keep it secret. It should be enough for you to know that your brother is down. Keep me busy and distract me from my pain, that's all I need.

- You're intolerable, but ok, do you wanna go bowling?

- Anything is fine.

- Wow, hey!

- What?

- Seriously, tell me what's going on. You look like a ghost.

- I can't say anything.

- But maybe I can guess by myself?

- No, please, don't try.

- Fine. We're going. I take your bag.

- Hey, no! Don't touch it! Give it back to me!

- Why? Is there something inside that you don't want me to see?

- ... No!

- Haha! You don't know how to lie! What's in there... a pillowcase?

- Don't. Touch. It.

- Okay... I give you back your bag and your... pillowcase. I suppose it implies that you stole it somewhere... And it surely means something to you. At least I hope so. Wait... A pillow... You slept with someone!

- Mmm...

- Do you... have a sorrow of love?

- Haaaa, shut up! It sounds so sappy, so stupid...

- Whaa, I just don't know what to say.

- Something like "I'll be there for you"?

- I'll be there for you, Al.

- And "You're the best, he will fall in love with you and come back to you on his knees!"

- Am I supposed to say that?

- Mattie, make an effort!

- Al?

- Hum?

- You're the best.

- I know! Don't be lazy we need to go bowling and then we'll go shopping and drinking and so on! Hurry up!

- Wait, I have a question. You won't tell me who he is but please tell me who he is not. Tell me it wasn't Prussia.

-... what did you say?

- Prussia.

- Oh no, thank God! I never slept with him and I wouldn't do it even if it was the only way to save the world!

- Thank you very much for those sweet little words.

- You're welcome. I wonder how you can have a crush on a German albino.

- I wonder how you can have a crush on a Russian psycho.

- How did you guess?

- You're easy to figure out. So, you and Russia...? Oh my God! I'm too young for this trashy mental image!

- I thought you were supposed to console me.

- Sorry. I can see that you're depressed but I'm not comfortable with that, usually you're the one who consoles me after all. I wish that you'll be happier soon. I'm sure you will plan something to seduce him again and get exactly what you want. So, do you still wanna beat me at bowling?

- And how! Let's go!

* * *

- I'll come to him and say: "Hey, Braginski! The greatest nation of the world, Alfred F. Jones, the United States of America want a hug!"

- Haha, you're drunk.

- Yes, sir! I'm a bit tipsy, will I get arrested by an evil cop? Oh god, I'm so hiiiiiigh!

- Poor thing, you need to go to bed, we were lucky to find a taxi. Don't worry, we'll be home soon.

- Which home?

- Yours of course, that's a taxi, not a plane.

- Ha? Mattie my dear little Mattie, don't trust men, they're all commie bastards. They will cut your heart into pieces and eat it!

- Al, the driver is listening to us, could you lower your voice?

- KARL MARX WAS GERMAN!

- Sir, let me apologize for him, I do beg your pardon, he's intolerable when he's drunk.

-Mattie, you're not listening to me! Beware Gilbert, he's German! He will cut your little heart!

The driver said something which implied that Al was not the worse customer he has had in his life. Alfred started to silently cry on Mattie's shoulder until he fell asleep in his arms, exhausted, still holding his sports bag like a cuddly blanket. When they finally arrived, Alfred fell on his bed without removing his clothes and his little brother lied next to him and helped him make himself more comfortable by taking off his shoes, his belt and his glasses. He didn't know exactly what happened but he decided to stay a few days at Alfred's house to make sure he would go through it, cause he had never seen him like that before. This sudden love for Russia seemed to have fallen from the sky. Well their cold war was a bit suspect, but that's no reason to think that it would turn into sex or even love. And honestly, what was Russia thinking about?

...

Russia was thinking of America. But not in a pleasant way. Still not understanding what he had let his enemy - well, maybe former enemy, but still - do to him. Twice. He had even asked for it. He had been presumptuous to think that he would be able to bracket this paragraph of his life. He had been foolish to think that he could put it in a little box and bury it somewhere. It was written in his heart with indelible ink. And now he couldn't sleep. The shame was conquering his heart. He had already bitten all his nails and started to make them bleed. A real drop of blood was rolling on his hand, as if he wanted to punish himself, but it wasn't helping much, the harm was done. The only thing he wanted to do was threaten America to make sure he wouldn't tell anybody but he knew that it was giving him another grip on him, another thing to use against him. He didn't want to take the risk. He promised to himself that he would not let this happen again. Even if America was extremely convincing, he had to resist or he would not be able to call himself a man anymore. Now that Alfred was not in front of him anymore, now that the "lovely" excuse had disappeared, it was giving him a stomach-ache.

Cause in reality it had been one of the greatest moments of his life.

And it was terrifying.

...

Little by little , time was passing by. Both of them felt lost one way or another. Canada made America swear not to stalk Russia, because: "It would be as digging your own grave." America wondered how Canada, his virgin little brother, was aware of those things but he had decided to trust him, because it surely was more realistic than his own dreams.

He was trying his best not to do anything, which was difficult and even painful for him. So he started running. The first time he did so was two days after. He was on the verge of hysterics and Canada was looking at him as if he was afraid of being attacked. When he noticed the gleam of fear in his eyes he let out a groan and ran out, discovering a growing feeling of mental power and physical pain. He ran at total speed and his mind became blank. He came back at nightfall, exhausted. His legs were trembling and his throat was stinging but he found it funny in some way and laughed for the first time since... Russia. Mattie opened his arms and let Alfred literally fall on him. They rolled embraced on the floor, laughing for no reason. Mattie felt relieved and held him tight and they laid a moment like this to prolong the absurdity of their joy.

Canada left America's house after a full week dedicated to him. His older brother was still nervous and not smiling much but he was safe and sound and had no terrible political issue to face for now. It was strange for Canada to see America in love. He was much less funny, much more sensitive, and as touchingly well-intentioned as he was before.

Alfred found himself alone to face his lack of answers. He tried to focus on politics and economy, not wanting to let his personal problems cause problems to his people too, because it would be a vicious circle and it could cause him even more pain. But everyday he was checking his cell phone, and everyday his email box was Russian-free and everyday he walked around angrily and ended up feeling claustrophobic.

He wanted to talk to him. Ask him why it had ended so badly. The scene of Ivan leaving him was taking all the space in his mind. He was torturing himself wondering if it was his fault, if he had done or said something bad. He had tried to answer his question using the Internet but all the responses he had were:

"First comment! *proud*"

"Handsome men all are gits"

"How is it to sleep with a Russian guy? Does it hurt?"

"Oh poor thing, do you want to date me instead?"

"Click HERE to see my sister naked!"

"Tell him to go to hell!"

"So tsundere, kyaaaaaaaaaa!"

"Oh, I understand. It must be difficult for you. When my girlfriend left me I felt just the same."

"You guys are so gay!"

"¡ Si qué puedes ! ¡ Mostrale tu pasión! ¡ He will not love you if you do nada !"

His favorite was the last one. "La pasión", hun? The Spanish way, which had the advantage of being direct, and the disadvantage of being... direct. For all he knew, it wasn't working so well on Romano. He didn't want Russia to flee when he sees him. Passion was a bit creepy. He preferred the word "love". Just "love". It was simple, a bit naive, but serious.

He sighed and went to the kitchen to make his breakfast. It was 4 pm. He was just a bit disgusted by food for the moment, as if he had understood that what he really needed was something else rather than just burgers and ice creams. He drank his coffee and as he felt a weird wave of tears wet his eyes took his phone.

"Sorry Mattie, I officially allow you to tell me that you told me so."

Braginski. He just needed to hear his voice, to check that all this wasn't a sort of dream he had, in fact he didn't even know why but now, he wanted to hear him.

- What do you want America?

- Hun? Hahem. Hello, Ivan?

- Speaking. What do you want?

- I... don't know...

- I don't have too much free time. If you wanna chat with someone about nothing special I'm not your man.

- Wait, don't hang up, wait! I have a question.

- OK, what's your question?

- Do you... hate me?

- Oh please, no! What is that question? I will not answer that.

- But I really don't understand why you are ignoring me. You seemed angry, as if you wanted me dead. Did I say or do something wrong? I need to know, Ivan.

- Well, I... Somehow I'm very angry, da. I can't say it was your fault though. It's the situation that I hate. I have to go. If that is all you need I will hang up now.

- I want to talk to you at the next conference.

- We'll see. Goodbye America.

- I...

For the second time, Ivan left, cutting his phrase before he had time to say something inappropriate. But this time was different. Ivan had said that it wasn't his fault. He decided to trust him and it made him feel more comfortable. He liked the "We'll see". It was cold, of course, but it was Russia. When he doesn't want, Russia says "no". "We'll see"... It was much better.

* * *

RR:

Shadow Mishka:Thank you very much for your review. You wanted a continuation, and I hope you like it. I'm working on the fourth chapter now! You're right, writing fics helps me, and it does more than what we study in class.

**I still love reviews**

**Oh yes.**

**- Da.**

**- Russia! You! **

**- H'hihi!**


	4. Just a cup of coffee

**Hi everyone! **

**Hahem... pease read this?** I had serious problems with my email box, and this means:

- I didn't answer your reviews and I'm completely lost between them, even if they all touch me. I swear it's precious to me but now it's so old that I have no idea when I stopped answering. As I said, I'm a bit stupid. Now you know what it meant-_-'

- I lost my betareader's mail adress and **this text has never been corrected**! Sorry! If someone feels like correcting it, send me a PM, and yeah, that would help. Elseway, you will judge my work at its natural level, with all the French reflexes I can't get rid of, like, for example, long sentences. But I read it twice and I tried... to make it better ^^

...

_Previously in 'Just Bracket It'_

_One night, America and Russia had sex and America was on top! He fell in love instantly and now, he's got a problem because Russia doesn't seem to share his feelings and he even told him to keep it secret. That's what America tried to do but Canada is a medium and he solved the puzzle with the help of a mysterious pillowcase. He told America not to call Russia but America called him anyway and cheepishly asked to talk to him at the next conference. Russia said 'We'll see' and now America is hoping for his fantasy to come true!_

I seriously missed you all^^

* * *

The day of the conference finally came. Alfred F Jones arrived early and stood against the door of the meeting room. He didn't like to wait and most of the time, he was late, but today was special. He didn't care much about today's issue, his personal interests were much more stressful and fascinating than the International Green Project. To him, green rythmed with boring. Red was much better. Red was the color of casinos in Las Vegas, the color of action movies in Hollywood, the color of blood, of love, of danger, of socialism, of war. It wasn't harmless. It wasn't "good". Besides, he didn't like this color. Well, it was complicated, maybe he just... needed it? Cause trouble was better than peace to him. Green was different, it was, when not meant in a political way, a dark and mysterious color, a bit depressing, full of melancholy and poetry, the color of an impossible love so... not his stuff. The only green things he liked were... But he didn't want to think about it.

He sighed. The air conditioning was blowing a cold and impersonal atmosphere. He sat down and passed his arms around his legs, pulling down his sleeves. His hands were sweaty. Those past weeks he had thought of Russia so often that he was not able to remember his face and voice anymore. His dreams were melted with his memories. He felt just like a breathless baby. The first time that air went into his lungs he cried, but now it was too late, air had became what he needed to survive, and he couldn't understand this sudden lack of oxygen.

- Come on, don't make me wait...

No sound answered to him. The only breath he heard came from a machine. The system was working, baybe too well. Now he was freezing, which was a bit ridiculous if one considers the fact that it happened in June, in Spain.

He was tired of being stressed. It was too early in the morning, he didn't slept the night before. The artificial sounds of loneliness he was surronded by seemed to play a lullaby for him. And what was meant to happen happened.

- America?

-...

- Hey, wake up.

- Hummmm... What is this about?

- You told me to come. You wanted to speak and now you're sleeping?

- Oh sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to, I mean... Oh, ok, we're in Spain, right? Hummmm, wait a minute.

- You have five seconds.

- Hey, it's ok, don't be like this, so haemmm, did you have a safe trip?

- I'm here in front of you so you can draw the conclusion that it was safe enough.

- Good. Don't be like this, I'm not your enemy, Ivan, please remember this.

- Very well.

- Did you already eat your breakfast?

- No.

- Perfect, follow me then.

They came out of the buiding and walked silently in the town. It was already very sunny and lively. The meating would only began in two hours. They choose a nice café near a fountain, sat down, ordered their coffees and started looking at one other. Alfred laughed:

- You really, really look like you're going to kill me or something.

- Oh no. I would'nt do something like that.

- Ivan.

- Da?

- Tell me, do you hate me?

- Somehow.

- Why?

- I have no answer for that question.

- Because you don't know or because you don't wanna tell me?

- OK. I hate, mostly, your arrogance, your inability to notice things, your sublime indifference about what others can think or feel, and the way you always manage to be seen as a victim while in fact you're the one who oppress others.

- "Take that, Alfred!"

-...

- But... No! Maybe I can be arrogant, maybe I can hurt others and not being aware of this, but... I'm definitely not indifferent when it comes to you, you can't say it, that is not true. Maybe you're mistaken because you drive me nervous.

- Really? Why would you be nervous?

- Everything you say... You make me feel so... And now you say that you hate me.

- I said "somehow".

- Whatever! You don't like me anyway.

- Who cares?

- I care.

- You look so serious, that's unexpected. In fact, I like you, America. Sometimes.

- Oh, somehow you hate me and sometimes you like me? Congrats, it could't be more obscure!

- And what about you? You didn't say anything.

- I tried twice, Ivan. But the first time you left, and the second time you hung up, so I begin to think that you don't want to hear it.

- I'm listening to you now.

- I want you to stop considering me as your enemy. Forever.

- Forever? That's stupid and lovely, da.

- That's lovely. And damn serious.

- I'll think about it. Your coffee must be cold now.

- Yours too. It's time to go anyway.

They both let bills on the table, secretely refusing to be kept, leaving a comfortable tip to the waiter. The sun was warming the air. Its light was playing on the surface of every drop of water in the fountain. It was enough to make America smile. He decided to forget the cold part of the conversation and just kept: "That's stupid and lovely, da."

To him, this sort of expression allowed him to hope. He didn't understand why Russia seemed to reproach him their night together. As if something bad had happen, something he would have been responsible of. But even Ivan had said: "It's a beautiful night"

Trying to understand Russia's way of thinking was like being lost in a dangerous maze. In winter. But the difference between _Shining_ and his life, America thought, was that the twisted guy was not running after him. Actually, he was running after the twisted guy.

They went to the conference. Nations had to propose different projects based on the respect of the environment. America wanted to sleep so much that he did so. Canada nunged him when he had to speak and gave him a prompt and America went back to sleep. The same scene was repeated each time someone asked his opinion, but except Germany's passionate speach, the tone of the debate was extremely consensual and as propitious for sleep as a sweet lullaby. The Planet would have to wait, once again.

And then the debate focused on health and nutrition. America woke up when the words "fat"; "pityful" and "disgusting" enter his brain through the frontier of his subconscious. They were running him down, all of them. Even Canada. They looked like if butter wouldn't melt in their mouth but they were malicious bitches, talking about him like a poisoner. He felt a ball of anger grow and fidget in his belly. He stood up and looked at them, tapping the table with the fingertips. It was in vain that he looked for a friendly smile. Canada was sitting on France's knees, who was whispering naughty things that seemed to amuse his brother quite a lot. Arthur was speaking to Danmark with a very serious expression, visibly concerned. America's anger decreased and he smiled: Arthur seemed just sooooooo ridiculous in front of a giant like Danmark! It was... touching... cute, well, sort of. With a sigh, he forced himself to look somewhere else and realised that Russia had disappeared.

He had been sleeping for so long that he didn't know when he had decided to leave.

"He's just like air!" America thought.

At a loss, looking around him he wondered where he should go first to find him- not that he had anything to tell him anyway, but who needs context when you're in love?

Slamming the door he went out of the conference room and found himself alone in the cold hallway with the sounds of air conditioning.

"Back to the start!" He whisped before starting to look after Russia.

The hallways were not just cold. They were labyrinthine. He didn't find Russia. He remembered Canada's words: "Do not harrass him, it would be as digging your own grave." Aaah, but it was exactly what he was a frustated smile, tired and feeling the beginning of a slight headhache, he sat down against a wall, and thought of his situation. He hated those silent moments. They made him realise how lonely he was and want to cry again. But he knew that he wouldn't dare to cry, anyway.

All he wanted - and it was quite innocent after all - was to hold him, hug him, make love to him, talk with him and keep him by his side. Oh and: stroke his adorable plump cheeks. Very Important.

The sound of a door opening took him by surprise. He stood up to face Russia who was crossing the hallway like if it was empty. When Ivan was about to pass him, Alfred grabbed his sleeve with a little sad noise that stopped Ivan.

- Please look at me. Ivan... Please...?

* * *

**And that's how this chapter ends!**

Sorry it's a transition but I'm sure it's kind of useful.

Oh and:

**I still love reviews! **

(And this time I'll answer! Isn't that great?)


End file.
